Wednesday, March 24, 2010


Elephants

From childhood’s Dumbo
and the baby elephant
in The Jungle Book,
then collectibles in
various woods, stones, metals;
carvings with trunks upraised
for Good Luck;
these have comforted me.

Metaphorically,
they’ve crushed me
at times when my chest
feels a pressure,
a crushing wieght
oppressing heart and lungs;
“feels like an elephant sitting on my chest,”
but really now,
poor elephant;
I don’t know how that would feel.

People say,
“the elephant in the room”
referring to that which
cannot be spoken;
when social convention
dictates silence:
awkwardness and discomfort,
don’t confront it,
don’t talk about it;
as if the elephant can be ignored.

I love my little statues,
and my Disney memories;
I dread the pressure of illness,
when breath comes gasping;
these comforts and pains
I have learned to live with;
they are expected.

I loathe the one who lumbered
into our room,
unwelcome and ridiculous,
is he to be supreme?
perhaps
he will prevail
with his destructive rampage,
and I shall leave the room.



© ACG
24 March 2010